You Found Me
by YukinoKara
Summary: As insignificant as the problems in life seem, they add up. Solution? Remove the main cause- or die trying. EdxEnvy


A quick oneshot I wanted to write. Pity I wrote _all_ of it on paper. Typing it up is annoying.

This is based on the song "You Found Me" by The Fray.

This is in Envy's POV. Set in Australia.

Warnings: Shounen ai, suicide attempt, drugs, swearing, me attempting angst. Cheery fic, no?

* * *

I sigh heavily as I collapse face first onto my bed. Yet another day had been absolute shit.

First, I overslept and was late to class. The teacher gave me a detention. _Again_! And no more than five minutes later, that bastard Mustang walks in and the teacher just smiled and told him to sit down!

And that wasn't even the worst part. At lunch, some idiot thought it would be a fantastic idea to throw food at the school bullies. There isn't even just one. Not three, either. Try twelve. That's twelve huge, pissed off thugs armed with potpie and soy sauce.

Food had flown everywhere; including my table. Which means the food fight had been huge; considering that I sit alone at the table in the corner of the lunchroom. The teachers don't trust us, so they built a large room for us all to eat in. This isn't very popular in Australia, but it does decrease the vandalism and bullying. Theoretically.

Eventually, the teachers came and tried to get everyone to stop "wasting good food". Their thanks? A face full of whatever the hell was on the menu.

I ended up leaving the room with a face full of gravy, mashed potato and whipped cream. I have every type of dessert on my black top, and I don't even _want_ to know what the fuck's in my hair.

Then, when I was walking home, it _rained_. And I have a twenty minute uphill walk. It didn't even wash off the lunch crap.

Yup, today officially sucked.

I roll over and throw my arms out against the bed. I stare up at the ceiling blankly.

Yeah. Today sucked. So did yesterday. And so will tomorrow. It's always been like that, since he left.

Edward. Just his name fills me with hurt. The bastard had left the country. Apparently, Australia isn't good enough for him, oh no; he had to go to _America_. Fucking exchange programs.

I can hear something downstairs. Did something just break? Screaming, running, footsteps. Dante's probably blowing up at Wrath again. How is she even doing this? Isn't it illegal to abuse your own children?

I glance at what I can see of my right arm. It's covered in scars and bruises, some of them self inflicted.

I guess not. That, or she's craftier than I thought.

Someone's running up the stairs, and away from me. Dante keeps screaming for a while longer, and then a door slams. I lie still; listening intently.

A motorcycle revs its engine, and then drives away. The bitch's probably gone away to drink. _Again_. Then, then she'll come back and beat us. Again. Unless she passes out, of course.

I sit up, and glance at the door. Dante's out, and Wrath's probably in his room. The bathroom's free.

I stand up and walk to the door. I pause, and glance at the nightstand. On the surface, it has a photo of Edward and I. Maybe, maybe he'll come back. Maybe he got bored of America, and is on his way here right now. Maybe-

No.

No, I'm getting my hopes up again.

I shake my head in hopes of clearing it. No, he's not coming back. Why would he? School's shitty here; he's probably having a _much_ better education over there. Yeah, he _was_ always talking about how he wanted to become a scientist. He can do it, too.

I open the door, and walk along the hall. The depression's getting to me again. I glance at Wrath's room, the door's open. He's sitting on the floor; leaning against his bed.

He looks up at me, and I can see the needle in his arm. He's shooting up. _Again_. And he's only thirteen; thirteen year olds should _not_ be shooting up.

He grins at me lazily. His eyes are glazed, and his pupils are contracted. I can barely see them; they're lost in the purple.

"Hey," he breathes. His voice is quiet, I can barely hear it. His grin drops a little; now it's lopsided. His right arm takes out the needle, and holds it out in my direction. "Want some?"

My lip curls down in disgust. "No, I don't. And you shouldn't either." Don't be like me, I want to add, but I don't have the right.

He shrugs. "Your choice." He places the needle on the floor beside himself. I glance longingly at it. Not the needle itself, but for what it represents- its effects.

I turn away from Wrath's room, and head to the bathroom. I don't like needles, they hurt. I don't like pain.

I lock the door behind me, and head to the counter. I open the door, and sift through the various contents. I pull out anything that looks like it contains pills, and set them on the counter. There are five bottles. I don't know what they are, or what they do. I take three tablets from them all, and pop them in my mouth.

I attempt to swallow them dry, but it's harder than I thought. I knock the bottles out of the way with my left arm. They clatter to the floor, and the pills spill out.

I don't care. I lean over the sink, and tilt my head as I turn on the faucet. I carefully sip the water; making sure not to lose a pill or swallow air by accident.

Once the last pill is down, I stand up; turning off the water as I do so.

I look up at my reflection, and flinch. I look horrible. I'd forgotten about the food.

I glance at the shower, and shrug. What the hell.

I step into the shower without bothering to take off my clothes. I turn on the water, and adjust the temperature until it's warm enough to fog up the window, but not hot enough to burn.

I step into the spray, and rinse my hair. I immediately regret not taking off my socks; the water's making them heavy, and they cling to my skin.

I impatiently take them off, and throw them over the glass and onto the floor. I don't mind the top and jeans; they're easier to ignore.

The shit's almost all out of my hair, and is off of my face and clothes.

I quickly shampoo my hair, and rinse it out. I can't be bothered using conditioner.

I can start to feel the pills taking effect; my movements are becoming sluggish. Usually, they wouldn't take effect so fast. I guess the reaction sped up since I took more than two.

I turn off the faucet, and step out of the shower. My body's starting to feel heavy. I glance at the pills on the floor. Their different colours contrast greatly with the white tiles of the floor. It's shining; Dante must have cleaned it recently. It looks inviting.

I lay down on the tiles, surrounded by pills. I think I can hear a door shut downstairs. Did Wrath go down while I was in the shower? I don't know, and I don't really care.

The floor is cold and hard, but I can't feel it very well. What _did_I take, anyway? I glance at one of the overturned bottles next to me. Insomin-X, a sedative. Dante takes that sometimes; although she doesn't know it. Wrath and I crush those pills and put it in her wine bottles when she's not around. You're not supposed to take more than two a day. I took three. You're not supposed to mix it with other pills. I took twelve others.

I wonder what's doing to happen to me. I'll probably die, unless I puke up the pills. Hah, not gonna happen. Someone might force me to. Not likely; Dante's out getting drunk, Dad ditched us after Wrath was born, and Wrath himself is in his room getting high; and is probably out of it by now. Although, I think the footsteps are coming closer. It sounds like the person is in my room. It's okay, I won't be found. Why would someone come here? The doors all look the same. It's not like there's a trail or somethi-

Crap.

I lift my head, which took more effort than usual, and glance at my discarded socks. They're covered in lunch mush from when I stepped in a pile of food, and would _definitely_ leave a trail. Shit.

The footsteps are getting closer. They pause in front of the door, and the handle rattles. They're trying to open the door.

I smile softly, feeling too drained to let it widen. It won't open; that lock is almost impossible to open without a key-

I hear a soft click, and the door opens. Edward's standing in the doorway, looking shocked. I would laugh if I could. He always was skilled at breaking in.

He rushes over to me, concern etched into his features. I wonder how I must look. I'm soaked, lying on the white, tiled floor and I'm surrounded by pills. I'm not a pretty sight, I bet.

I sigh softly. At least I got to see him one more time before I died. I let my body go limp, and I can feel the drowsiness taking over.

Suddenly, I'm being lifted up and moved. I force my eyes open, and I see that Edward's holding me up with his arm, and we're in front of the toilet. He reaches past me to lift the toilet lids, and I cringe at the smell.

He pushes his fingers in my mouth, and I get it. He wants me to puke! No way, I finally mustered the courage to end it; he is _not_ going to ruin that.

I clamp my teeth down on his finger, trying to discourage him from trying to help me. He wasn't there before, what makes him think he has the right to be here for me now?

He sighs, and I feel a warm rush of air on my neck and ear. "Envy…" His tone is patient and guilt-inducing; the tone one would use with a disobedient child.

I roll my eyes slightly, and try to clamp down harder. My body's really weak, and I feel even more tired than before. I know that my bite must be really pathetic; but I want to try anyway out of spite.

He easily opens my jaw with his hand, and reaches further into my mouth. I can't do anything to stop him; I'm almost asleep as it is.

He presses his fingers lightly against my uvula, and I gag reflexively. My stomach twists uncomfortably, and bile creeps up my oesophagus. I can _taste_ how bad it smells, and it burns. I really _hate_ pain.

I swallow; a last effort to keep it down.

Edward sighs again, and pinches my uvula hard; and the bile rushes up. I gag repeatedly, and he quickly pulls out his hand before I throw up. He uses his right hand, which was just in my mouth, to hold my wet hair back as I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. His left arm is the only thing holding me up; I'm amazed I can even puke properly.

I open my watering eyes, and try to grimace at the sight. It's messy, and I can see the pills. I look closely. All fifteen are there. I notice that some of them have changed colour; three of them which used to be black were now a dark grey. I know from the times Wrath and I crushed the pills that if I hadn't puked them up, they would become yellow.

I dry-heave for a moment, and then swallow to stop myself from gagging. I feel horrible, and significantly more awake. My throat and mouth burn, and I could definitely live without the taste on my tongue. My face is flushed; I can feel it, and my eyes are still watering. To top it all off, I still feel _weak_. I just knew this day would be crap. Hah, Wrath was always saying that I have the intuition of a girl.

Edward lets go of my hair, which is still annoyingly wet, and reaches for the toilet paper. He yanks off a decent length, and scrunches it up in his hand.

I'm surprised when he uses it to wipe my mouth. He scrubs at my chin a little, and then drops the tissue into the bowl. He stands up slightly to press the flush button, and then sits back down behind me.

He wraps his right arm around me; pulling me into an embrace. I fall against him heavily, I don't have enough energy to sit up by myself.

He rests his chin on my shoulder, and doesn't say anything. I'm caught between being thankful for the silence, since I'm not sure if I can talk right now, and being angry that he has nothing to say after being gone for three months. He didn't even get in touch with me!

Oh, he has some explaining to do, and he _will_ talk; even if I have to speak.

But what should I ask first? I should demand to know why he didn't contact me, why he's here, and why the _hell_ did he stop me?!

"Where… were you?" Oops. That slipped out of its own accord. And to top it all off, my voice is weak and raspy. And my breath smells like puke. And my throat hurts even more now. Not. My. Fucking. Day.

Wait. My question doesn't even make sense! I _know_ where he was, and now he's going to laugh at me, and, and, and-

"Just a little late." I tilt my head to look incredulously at him. I try to kill myself, he makes me puke, he's holding me and now he's sounding weird. And I thought _I_ was the weird one.

I can't help the small smile that touches my lips. I've missed him.

But that doesn't mean I'm not with him yet. Oh no, he still has some explaining to do.

"Why are you… here?" I hate having to pause, but I'm not fond of pain.

He smiles. "I changed the six month transfer to a three month one. Since we'd already payed, my dad made me finish the time period. The time finished yesterday."

My eyes widen. Plane tickets are expensive, and the trip is long. How did he get here so fast?

I look closer at his face. He has dark circles under his eyes, and he looks exhausted. He must've come straight here.

"Why are you… _here_, here?"

He grins sheepishly. "I wanted to see you. I'm glad I came; you were trying to kill yourself! What were you _thinking_?!"

I decide to ignore the latter part of his statement. We can talk about that later, when we're _not_ dead tired and sitting in the bathroom in front of the toilet. Which, by the way, still smells.

"You… wanted to see… me?" I clear my throat in hopes of making my voice stronger. "Yeah, right. If that's…true, then why didn't…you contact me?"

My throat burns from stringing so many syllables together in one hit, but I want, no, _need_ to get my point across.

He looks confused. "What do you mean?"

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and bang my head on the floor repeatedly. Not because it would be insulting; no, because my body isn't up to it at the moment. So tired…

"You didn't sign on… to MSN. _At all_." This is true. I stayed up for two days to see if it was because of time differences.

"The family I stayed with were strict. Really strict. I seriously considered the possibility of someone shoving flagpoles up their arses. Anyway, they didn't let me use the internet unless it was for school."

I raise my eyebrow at him. Since when did he _obey_ rules?

"Don't give me that look. I _tried_to get MSN without their knowledge, but their oldest son didn't trust me. He sat right behind me everytime I used the computer. I'm not kidding."

Well. That's certainly weird. But, it makes sense. Take Dante, for example. She has no idea what MSN is, but if she knew I used it, I'd get a beating for sure. The woman would look for any excuse to do something to us.

I realise that Edward's looking at me expectantly; waiting for me to say something.

"Why didn't you… call?" He has a mobile; there's no _way_ he couldn't use that.

Edward looks guilty. "Well, I always use MSN, so I don't bother using phones. Which means I don't bother getting anyone's number."

Eh? That's doesn't make sense. "I gave you my… number. I put it in…your mobile's contact… list."

Edward looks confused. He stays silent, then speaks quietly. "I have a mobile?"

I stare at him incredulously. Typical Edward. "Yes, you do."

Edward smiles nervously. "I never use it, so I forgot. I think it's under my bed. Flat."

Well. When he _does_ charge it, he's going to be bombarded with messages.

"Why didn't you… mail me, then?" Did he even make an effort to _try_ to contact me?!

Edward looks down at me, confused. "I did. Every week."

Hm? He did? That can't be true, I would know. Maybe he got the address wrong?

"What's my address?"

"Twelve Percy Street, Balwyn." He states without thinking.

That's odd. It's right. There couldn't be a mistake in the mail; he knows my address. Dante gets the mail, and puts anything sent to Wrath or myself on the tabl-

"_Dante."_ I hiss. Of course. She _has_ been using the fireplace more often for the past few months. Damn.

Edward's eyes widen in understanding. "I see."

He knows what Dante's like. He's seen my bruises, and he's seen how she treats us when she thinks he's not looking. He couldn't come over as often as he used to and _not_ know what she's like.

I swallow. My throat still hurts from puking, and talking is like setting it on fire and then scraping nails along the insides of my oesophagus. Not exactly my idea of fun.

My eyelids droop against my will. Even though the pills are out of my body, some of their effects linger. I rest my head in the crook of Edward's neck, and let my neck and leg muscles go limp. I'm so tired… we'll have to talk later.

I feel Edward shift under me, and suddenly I'm being dragged backwards. What the hell.

"The fuck, Edward?!" I try to sound furious, but it comes out soft and exasperated.

I can feel a tug on my chest and the sides of my neck. This means that Edward's dragging me by the collar of my shirt. I left my head fall backwards against his fist, and roll my eyes up to look at him.

He doesn't turn around, and just says, "You'll catch a cold if you sleep in there."

Hah. That's just like Edward; always thinking ahead. But, he _does_ have a point. Wet plus cold bathroom equals sickness.

It feels weird, being dragged. It doesn't hurt, but it's _definitely_ uncomfortable.

I look to my left as we pass Wrath's room. The needle's gone, and Wrath is in bed. Edward must have tended to him before coming to me.

I feel a pang of jealousy, but quickly dismiss the selfish feeling. If Wrath's okay, then I'm relieved.

I close my eyes and let my neck go limp; still leaning on Edward's fist. My arms drag along the floor beside me, and my legs trail behind me heavily. Hahah, Edward must be having a little difficulty dragging me. I'm surprisingly heavy for my size.

Good thing the floor's carpeted, otherwise I could've gotten splinters on the backs of my hands. Better a carpet burn than a splinter. Carpet burns don't involve tweezers.

Edward kicks my door to open it wider, and then drags me to the foot of my bed. He leaves me leaning against the mattress as he moves to close the door. I lean my head back against the cool fabric of my black duvet. It feels so nice…

I feel the vibrations of Edward's footsteps as he walks past me. I hear the rustle of sheets, and feel a rush of air and the bed stir as the duvet's moved back.

He walked back to me, and wraps his left arm around my back and under my arm, and uses his other arm to move my right arm around his neck, and then lifts me up as he stands. I'm surprised he doesn't stagger as he stands upright. It seems that he can support my weight.

He starts to walk with me to the side of the bed. My feet drag against the floor. I smirk weakly. Three months or not, Edward hadn't grown a bit. I feel that it is my duty to tell him so.

"Hey, Ed, I'm surprised… you can support… my weight,"

He looks like he isn't sure whether to be proud or suspicious. Time to drop the bomb.

"What, with your… _tiny_ body and all."

Even with the pauses, I get the desired effect.

His face turns red with anger, his eyes narrow and he grits his teeth. I grin lazily as I wait for the outburst.

He takes a deep breath. Ah, here it comes.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT HE CAN'T EVEN GROW A SINGLE MILLIMETRE OVER THREE MONTHS, _HUH?!"_

So he _did_ notice. My grin softens to a tired smile. Life is so much more interesting with Edward around.

He huffs in mild anger, and places me on the bed. He has to move my limbs for me; I'm too tired to do so myself.

As soon as I'm lying properly on the bed, the tiredness slams into me like a wave. My eyes shut of their own accord, and the tense muscles in my neck and back relax.

I'm beginning to feel how cold I am. Maybe I shouldn't have had that shower.

I feel a weight press onto the bed, and Edward moves himself closer to me. The weight shifts for a moment, and then comes back with additional weight. Edward must've pulled the duvet over us.

He ties his arms around my waist and pulls me closer to him. My cold, damp clothes make his body heat seem much warmer. Maybe the shower _was_ a good idea, after all.

I want to return the embrace, but I'm too tired. I really can't be fucked moving.

I settle for pressing my face into the crook of his neck again. He tightens his grip on me; which quickly loosens. He must be tired, too.

I sigh softly and relax completely. I have a feeling I won't be plagued by nightmares this time.

* * *

**A/N:**Yup, quick oneshot. But at least it's done. Now I need to write the other stuff I said I'd do…

Reviews are appreciated.


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